The Last Mission
by KESwriter
Summary: In the year two thousand twenty, a virus killed every person over the age of forty and no one lives past the age of forty. Eighty years later, Agent Leah Lindell embarks one last mission to find the cure and finds something that leads to a much larger conspiracy at play.
1. Chapter 1

This is not a story for everybody. If you're looking for a compelling sci-fi dystopia adventure, then this is it. If you're looking anything else, look elsewhere. I will actually be sharing this with people in the "real world," so references to the show will be kept to a minimum. But fear not, there is a central character in this! Just be patient with me and you will be rewarded.

In the year two thousand twenty, a virus killed every person over the age of forty and no one lives past the age of forty. Eighty years later, Agent Leah Lindell embarks one last mission to find the cure and finds something that leads to a much larger conspiracy at play.

The Last Mission

Personal Log of Agent Leah Lindell

July 9th, 2100

There was a time when the earth was a beautiful, vibrant, place. That time has long past. For those still unfamiliar with our history, I know there are many, the earth was decimated by a virus that killed every person over the age of forty in the year twenty-twenty, known as the Ultimate Cataclysm. To this day, in the year two thousand one hundred, every person who hits the age forty dies. My name is Agent Leah Lindell and I am twenty years old. My life is already half over.

For decades there have been rumors of a cure for the virus. Terrorists have been keeping it hidden for generations now. People have died scouring the globe for clues as to where the cure might be. There are also persistent rumors of technology being developed that could save humanity. They are only rumors, but they remain our only hope.

"Agent Lindell?"

Lindell looked up from her notebook.

The man in the ragged suit nodded.

"They're ready for you."

Lindell closed her notebook and straightened her pants as she got up. They didn't quite fit her, but they were the nicest pants she owned. Presentation wasn't as important as it used to be, but it still mattered.

They sat at a conference table that had seen better days. Director Isabella Hotchner sat flanked by her second in command Ray Welk, and Special Missions Operator Louis Briar.

"Agent Lindell," Hotchner said politely. "Have a seat."

Her red suit was in immaculate condition. She clearly had the discipline to sew and maintain her own clothing. Her brown hair was in a neat bun. At the age of thirty-nine, there was a hardness in her eyes that indicated she knew her time would be up soon.

"Why should we consider you for the last position on this mission?" she asked.

"I still believe there is a cure," she said. "I don't believe we're chasing shadows or just playing dress-up for a mission that will only get us killed. I still believe."

"Why?" Welk asked.

"I read in an old Star Wars book that rebellions are built on hope. I want to be part of mission that upends that status quo and saves humanity."

"The Allegiance thinks we are a wasteful enterprise," Hotchner said. "What happens if we discover there is no cure on this mission and you lose your job?"

"I refuse to give up," she said. "I will seek out another organization hunting for the cure and work for them."

"What special skills do you bring to the mission?" Briar asked.

"My superior athleticism, I have BA in Biology, and I am fearless."

"What about your brother?" Hotchner asked.

"I haven't seen Cameron since I joined up," she said. "He resented my decision as he is among the people who believe the human species should simply die away."

"In a hypothetical situation," Hotchner said. "Would you be willing trade his life for the cure?"

"In a heartbeat."

"What about your girlfriend?"

"I broke up with her today. I didn't want anything to get between me and a chance to find the cure. The answer remains the same though: yes."

"That will be all Agent Lindell," Hotchner said. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Lindell said and stood up.

She left the room and decided to take the long way back home. As the upper floors had fallen out of disuse due to lack of consistent access to electricity, she took the stairs down from the third floor to the main atrium. Lindell stopped and looked at the photos of those fallen. No one had been added since the Cataclysm. Looking closely at the photos, she wondered what the fallen agents would think of the shadow of a government she worked for now.

"My great-grandfather worked for her."

Lindell turned around to see Hotchner pointing to an older blond woman with a severe look on her face.

"My grandfather kept a record of all the stories his father told him about the bravery of his elite team of agents who apprehended serial killers. This woman was his direct supervisor."

"You have a legacy to be proud of," Lindell said.

"Thank you," she said with a thin smile. "Are you really willing to give everything to find this cure?"

"Yes, Ma'am," she said firmly.

"Be prepared to do so. This may be our last chance at finding something useful and it may cost you your life."

"I am aware of the risks."

"I hope so. Have a good day, Agent Lindell."

"You too, Ma'am."

Lindell left the building and walked home. She didn't know if she had gotten the job, but there was hope. Hope was what was needed in times when the odds seemed insurmountable.


	2. Chapter 2

Let's see how this goes.

Chapter Two

July 12, 2100

I got the job! I have to be careful about what I write here as it could be used against me in the future. I will say that I got the news while guarding the electrical grid. It was hard hiding how excited I was on site, but I cheered in private. I will be part of the change that saves the world!

…

Lindell, despite being in good shape, was huffing and puffing by the time she got to the seventh floor.

"So, you're the new agent," a man with short, curly, blond hair said as she reached the second-last set of stairs.

"Yes, I am," she said.

"Do you know why we meet up here?" he asked.

"To improve our stamina as we prepare for the mission," she said.

"That's one reason," he said. "I'll show you the other."

"I'm Leah Lindell, by the way," she said.

"Ken Willard," he said.

It looked like an office bullpen that had fallen out of use. There were no chairs and there were cords where computers used to be. There was an upper level that Willard led her to. The office still had glass intact and he pointed in the window at a nameplate.

"Hotchner's great-grand father had to enter witness protection and didn't have time to pack his own things. That was left behind and found it in a cabinet."

"Why doesn't the Director keep it with her?"

"Because she feels it belongs here," a voice behind them said.

A woman whose dark brown hair was cut in a pixie-cut was standing behind them.

"I'm Andrea Sellis," she said. "Locke's second-in-command."

"Adrian Locke is heading up this mission?" Lindell asked.

She nodded. "Willard is in charge of technical and Gill Hubert is the arms specialist."

"Only a five-person team?" Lindell asked.

"Locke will explain."

They walked to the conference room.

The chairs didn't match, but they functioned.

Locke was in his late thirties with neatly trimmed light brown hair. Hubert's hair was starting to gray despite his youthful, but serious face.

"Everyone take a seat," Locke said.

"Agent Lindell, welcome to the team," he said once everyone was seated.

"Thank you," she said.

"We leave in a week and I expect you to be fully prepared by then for anything we might face. Our destination is the Utah Data Center."

Lindell raised her hand slightly.

"My understanding was that the place had been bombed by domestic terrorists within ten years after the Cataclysm."

"We have data from one of our few satellites still operating that some parts of the data center survived," he said.

"One cooling station looks mostly unharmed," Willard said. "There have been rumors that the Allegiance did it themselves to save the most valuable data."

"Only rumors," Locke said.

"We're going to rendezvous with four other teams of five from what's left of the Allegiance," Sellis said.

The Allegiance was the remnant of what was formerly known as the US government. Since the death of so many leaders due to the Cataclysm, many parts of the country refused to respect the authority of the government anymore. It essentially pushed the state of governance back to that of the eighteen-hundreds.

"Okay," Lindell said. "How do we get there?"

"We're taking a retrofitted van," Locke said. "Leave your agent credentials behind. Bring only civilian clothes that you can pack in a medium-size backpack. Bedding and camping equipment will be provided. Do you know what this is?"

He pulled out a slim rectangular metal device half the size of a phone.

"It's a recorder," she said.

"Our cover is we are a group of traveling journalists sent by the Allegiance to record what's left of history. We have the credentials to prove it."

"I'm the videographer," Willard said.

"I'm the producer," Sellis said.

"I'm the on-air personality," Hubert said.

"You're the sound technician and I'm the director," Locke said and handed her the device. "Learn the basics on how to use it and do not waste the battery or it comes out of your paycheck."

"Understood," she said as she took it.

He opened a folder and handed them documents.

"This is the known layout of the facility, spend the rest of your time, memorizing them. The next time we meet we'll discuss how to use the com links. You can take notes, but I will destroy them before you leave."

Lindell pulled out some paper and began to take notes of what was important. She noticed that the stairwell appeared to be in good condition. Not all the windows were broken on the upper floors. Writing these things down helped her visualize what she was entering.

"Time's up," Locke said.

Everyone passed up their notes on the layout.

"Don't socialize outside of here," he said. "Get to know each within to confines of the building."

Locke left. The others looked to each other. Willard pulled out a small bottle of whiskey and glasses.

"It's watered down but it has a nice taste."

Glasses were passed around. Willard smiled and wagged his finger at Lindell.

"You're not old enough to drink."

She rolled her eyes.

"They lowered the drinking age to eighteen thirty years ago."

"But not all regions respect it."

"Some regions still believe in Santa Claus, hand me a glass."

He waved it above her briefly before giving it to her.

Hubert was staring at her intently.

"Why do you think you were chosen?"

"Because I'm still high on hope that we will find a cure in the Utah Data Center."

"Well that explains a lot," Sellis said and took a drink.

Lindell looked at them.

"Do none of you believe there's a cure?"

"Look kid," Hubert said. "They're hiding something in that old data farm. Is it the cure? Probably not. Locke and old Hotchner will lead you to believe that it is the cure, but truthfully it is probably a weapon. We need to get to the weapon before someone really bad gets to it first."

"So Hotchner chose me because I believe when none of you do?" she said slowly.

"Now is not a good time to back out," Sellis said.

"I believe," Lindell said. "I believe and I will believe with my dying breath."

She drank the rest in one gulp and turned the glass over.

Willard clapped.

"That's the spirit!"

Lindell ignored him and left. She didn't care what they thought. The only thing that she cared about was conviction that the cure was in Utah.


	3. Chapter 3

I hope someone is getting some joy out of this.

Chapter Three:

July 23, 2100

It doesn't always feel like work while on the road. At night we play poker and drink. Not enough to get drunk, but just enough to lighten the mood. The journalists from the South joined us a couple days ago and their swill is so much stronger! They laughed at us as we nearly passed out. Our director wasn't pleased. I have gotten some good soundbites about life in other areas and while most of it is bleak, some of it is hopeful. I cling to the hopeful soundbites as I continue on this assignment.

"The only one doing any real 'journaling' is the girl who only holds the mic," one of the Southern agents said.

"It's something to do," Lindell said.

They were at a refueling station before they'd meet up with their Midwest counterparts.

"I hear you're one of the believers," he said casually.

Jesse Forester was the second-in-command of the Southern contingent. With graying hair and a constant five o'clock shadow, there was something distinctly rugged about him. It also made him look dangerous.

"The only belief that matters is the belief that we will successfully get information with minimal to no harm to our teams," she said.

He laughed.

"Spoken like a true DC politician."

She didn't say anything in response.

"Come on Lindell," he said. "You really believe in a happily ever after where a cure will allow our esteemed director to serve over the age of forty?"

"Is there something wrong with that?" she asked with a slight edge in her tone.

"On the surface, no. Just don't start crying when you find your fairy cure isn't there and something more lethal is there instead."

"I won't," she said.

He patted her shoulder.

"Good talk."

Lindell didn't respond. She was getting tired of the way people were mocking her beliefs. It was her choice to believe and no one could take that away from her.

…

The Midwest group was something of a surprise. It was composed of all women. Their leader Emma Rook was the mother of her technical support Kara, who looked to be about Lindell's age.

"Government work isn't looked upon favorably where we come from," Rook explained. "So, it's left to the women who are either outcasts of their community or choose to believe."

"Understood," Locke said.

"Let's get going before dark," Rook said.

"Agreed."

Lindell noticed Kara was smiling at her.

They set off. Lindell couldn't help but admire the beauty of the area. As in other sites, nature had taken over what man had abandoned. Utility lines were covered in vines. Trees were growing unhindered. It made travel on the roads difficult at times, but somehow the beauty made up for it. Lindell might have liked to reflect on the beauty of the area, but there was more at stake now, than there ever was before.

The teams stopped at an old pitstop to set up camp. Everyone was assigned a task and they moved efficiently. As tradition, the newest group gave out a something from their region. The Midwest gave out bread. There was a wide variety and all of it was delicious. After dinner the directors went to bed after warning the groups not to stay up too late as an early start was planned.

"So, who'd like a good ghost story?" one of the Midwest members said.

"Only if it's true," Willard said.

"All of mine are," she said with a smile.

Lindell retreated to the tent she shared with Sellis. Pulling out her precious flashlight, she began to reread _Rogue One_ for the third time.

The tent was opened. Kara appeared. Her smile was broad.

"Hi," she said and noted her book. "A Star Wars fan I see. I bet you love A New Hope."

"You don't believe, do you?" Lindell said.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm in it for the adventure."

"I can respect that."

"As I can respect your desire to believe," Kara said.

She stepped over and crawled to her side. Then she stroked her hair.

"You are so beautiful," she said.

"How could you tell?" Lindell asked.

"I have a very good sixth sense," she said coyly. "Would you like to see what else I'm good at?"

"What about my tentmate?"

"We, switched mates, now I'm your mate."

Kara kissed her and Lindell kissed her back. Lindell was lonely for her girlfriend. Worrying about saving humanity could be put on hold for the night.

…

Sellis and Lindell strapped extra fuel tanks to the van.

"So, was the sex good?" Sellis asked.

Lindell refused to look her in the eye.

"I don't think that's any of your business," she said.

"I don't really care," she said. "You aren't the only one getting action you know."

"Sometimes it feels more like one big, big social outing rather than a mission," Lindell said.

"You can be so blind sometimes," Sellis said. "That's why half of these men and women signed up. It's a chance to do something that isn't just survival."

"I don't really care," Lindell said. "I'm here because I believe."

"I know," she said. "Just watch yourself."

"I will," Lindell said.

"Not everyone is here with your fierce do-gooder motivation."

"Good to know," she said.

"As long as we're on the same page," Sellis said and left.

…

They were going to meet the West Coast group at Salt Lake City where'd they also meet the local agents who were monitoring the Utah Data Center. The days passed uneventfully. The parties weren't as loud as they made their final trek.

The stories shared during their field work were very similar. A mini dust bowl had hit the area and the locals were struggling to harvest anything. Lindell got a small thrill out of making one girl's day by showing how her voice changed when played on a recorder. There was tension among town residents in some areas over water supply. Access to the power grid was a problem that affected everyone. As mission-oriented as Lindell was, these stories made her feel like a better educated member of the society she wanted to make better.

Occasionally they'd be stopped by local militia and have their stuff raided for valuables. The agents knew all the tricks though and Lindell hid her precious flashlight in a seat cushion and kept the batteries woven into her hair. A little bribery with alcohol also helped. Generally, they were left alone.

Lindell and Kara's bodies were intertwined peacefully the night before they were due in Salt Lake City.

"So, do you think you're going to end up like your beloved Jyn from _Rogue One_?" Kara asked. "Dead after transmitting the cure?"

"I prefer to think of myself as Leia," she said. "Escaping on a ship _with_ the cure."

"You are so adorable," she said fondling her breasts.

"So, I've been told," she said.

Lindell kissed her hands.

"This ends tonight you know."

Kara nodded.

"It was a fun run. Any chance we can do it returning home?"

"I doubt we will be leaving on the same time table."

"But there is hope, and hope is what keeps the future alive."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were mocking me."

"Never you sweet Leah Lindell. Never you."

They laid in silence. It was nice having Kara after breaking up with her girlfriend, but this couldn't continue. Calling is casual sex made what they had sound crass. But at the end of the day, it was the truth. The future was calling tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

I hope my writer's group likes this at least.

Chapter Four:

August 2, 2100

Tomorrow is the day that will change everything. My whole life has led up to this moment. I will not fail. I will be triumphant in brining hope back to humanity.

…

They spent the day going over plans with the rest of the groups. The West Coast group seemed to be the most laid-back. It was clear to Lindell that the whole group only thought of this as an adventure. She refused to fall into that mentality even as it seemed most of the operation felt the same.

"Technical will be hiding a in truck already on site," Locke said. "We'll drive to the location in sets of five and stop within two miles of the perimeter. If anyone asks, we're stargazing. The facility is supposedly abandoned, so we shouldn't be facing any difficulties."

The Utah group leader, John Fornet was a hardened military figure. He locked eyes with every member of the group. It was slightly unnerving.

"This isn't a campout," he said. "No stories, no fraternization, and no other extracurricular activities. I want everyone of you focused on the mission. I don't care what you believe. I want you prepared to enter the administrative building to get whatever has been hiding there. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Get ready to go," Locke said.

Lindell wondered if she was going to be able to sleep.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey," one of the California group members said with a smile.

Liam Whitter had his long blond hair tied in a ponytail. His expression was eager. In his mid-twenties, Lindell supposed he might appear to be attractive if she liked the company of men.

"You and I are hitting Stairwell B together," he said. "Do you want practice clearing corners?"

"Sure," she said.

He handed her a gun.

"How often have you used these things?" he asked.

"I've handled them most of my career as an agent," she said. "But to actually shoot it, never outside a firing range."

"I killed one person, years ago when I was a rookie," he said. "It scared me senseless."

"I didn't think agents were allowed to be scared," she said.

"Just don't tell your supervisor," he said with a smile.

They walked around the compound clearing angles.

"You're good at this," he said.

"I've read a lot of books," she said.

"Maybe we'll be the ones who get to find what is hiding there," he said.

"Hopefully," she said.

"Either way, this won't be boring."

"Sure," she said.

They finished clearing the area.

"I look forward to working with you tomorrow, Lindell."

"You too," she said.

…

Lindell woke up early in the morning and started prepping meals for her camp. Locke appeared. He looked more serious than usual.

"Hello Agent Lindell," he said pleasantly. "I'm not surprised to see you as the first one up."

"I am ready to see what is in the data center," she said.

"You mean the cure?"

"You don't believe either do you?" Lindell said.

"You are one terrific young agent, Lindell," he said. "Hotchner must have liked the spark she saw in you."

"And my naivete?" she said.

"It's not naive to believe Lindell," he said. "It's refreshing to find someone so mission-focused."

"Thank you."

"Agent Hotchner grew up on stories," he said. "I worked her security detail when she went to New York City. All she would talk about were these agents who apprehended serial killers around the country before the Cataclysm. Hotchner expects the agents of today to be held up to the standards of agents from generations ago."

"But that's not possible is it?" Lindell said.

He shook his head.

"The world has changed a lot over eighty years. We're a little more selfish and a little more intent on self-preservation over the greater good."

"I believe a cure is out there, sir," she said. "If not here, somewhere else. We'll find it and we'll bring hope back to humanity."

"I wish I had your conviction Agent Lindell," he said. "I really do."

He quietly left and Lindell continue to set up meals. Belief was important, even if her own direct superior lacked it.

…

"Everyone in position?" Lock asked over the comms. "Group A?"

"Ready, sir."

"B?"

Whitter checked his gun as Lindell kept watch.

"Locked and loaded sir."

"C?"

"Ready on your signal."

"D?"

"Let's get this party started!"

Lindell could hear Lock sigh through the comm.

"Three, two, one. Proceed."

Lindell and Whitter sprinted to the administration building. They cleared corners and entered through a door where the glass was gone.

"You know you're a sweet little thing," Whitter said.

"Now's not the time for small talk," she said looking around.

"I just thought you'd like to know that," he said.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She turned to see Whitter aiming his gun at her. His smile was as broad as ever.

Lindell stared down the barrel and knocked it away as it went off. She grabbed his arm and twisted it around. She used his own gun to shoot him in the back of the head.

"We have a security breach!" she screamed into her comm.

"You better believe it," a Southern group member said aiming his gun at her.

Lindell used what was left of Whitter as a shield. More bullets hit the body as she ran towards the shooting. Screaming, she threw the body at the man and pulled her own gun. A bullet grazed the side of her head as she shot him in the throat.

"You only have four more bullets," Hubert said with his gun aimed at her. "I made sure you didn't have enough to get out of here alive."

"What is here?" she demanded.

"I don't know actually," he said. "But the people paying me and looking after my family think it's worth killing a squadron of agents for."

"It doesn't matter if I die," she said. "Hotchner and her successor will send more agents to find what is here."

"And I'll be there to kill them all," he said. "It really wasn't a pleasure Agent Lindell."

Hubert's head suddenly exploded. Locke appeared. He was bleeding from the stomach.

"I'll fight them off," he said. "Go find what they're trying to hide."

"I can't leave you!" she cried.

"I'm a dead man, Agent Lindell," he said. "Save humanity."

Taking a deep breath, she ran upstairs. More gunfire could be heard. She tried not think about it as she cleared corners.

The most likely spot where something was being hidden was on the fourth floor. Proceeding with caution, she noticed all the computers and chairs were in place. There wasn't any dust or cobwebs. In the center was a large room. The steel door had a combination lock.

Lindell looked around and found a water cooler cup. Cracking safes was one of the first things she learned to do as an agent. It helped with finding things that could be bartered. Holding the cup to her ear against the door, she worked quickly as the sound of gunshots grew louder.

The sound of footsteps could be heard just as she opened the door. She slammed it shut behind her. She looked up and wasn't sure what was looking at.

It wasn't the cure. But it didn't look like a weapon either. Whatever Lindell was looking at was clearly vital to the survival or extinction of mankind.


	5. Chapter 5

In case anyone hasn't noticed, this is a slow burn story that is about to get hot.

Last Five:

A glass column contained a nude white male suspended in fluid wearing a wired helmet that was connected to an oxygen mask.

Someone was pounding on the door. Lindell was trapped. There were vitals monitors and a computer. She tried to log on as the pounding continued. None of the easy passwords worked and soon she was locked out.

The pounding stopped. When it began again there was a rhythm to it. Lindell listened closely. It was Morse code. The word was L-E-I-A. Lindell opened the door.

Kara and Willard piled in.

"I knew you were up here," Kara said breathlessly.

"What am I looking at?" Willard said as he stared at the figure.

"I have no idea," Lindell said. "What is going on?"

"What is going on is, MY MOM's A MURDERER!" Kara shouted. "She tried to kill the whole technical crew, me included."

"Locke, managed to kill her though," Willard said. "He ran to the building to try save others."

"He saved me," Lindell said numbly.

"What do we do?" Kara said frantically. "We can't hide here forever."

"Who is he?" Lindell said looking at the figure.

"Does it matter?" Willard shouted. "We're going to die!"

"I'd like to know what I'm dying for," she said.

"We're stuck in a room with a guy in a glass tube, we don't know whose alive and whose dead, and we don't know who to trust among the living," Kara said.

"Willard," Lindell said. "Can you hack that thing?"

"A functioning computer?" he said. "I didn't think those things existed anymore."

"Yes or no?"

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

There was a clicking sound. Someone was entering the combination. Lindell pulled out her gun and aimed.

A man in his late thirties with red hair dressed in a lab coat appeared with his hands raised.

"Don't shoot!"

She cautiously lowered her weapon.

"What is this?" she asked. "Who is this?"

"Look, I'm paid to sit and stare at him eight hours a day, okay?" he said nervously. "I don't know his name. I don't know where he came from. I just sit and monitor his vitals."

"How did you get this job?" she asked.

"My uncle had it before me and showed me the ropes. Nothing changes. I swear."

"What would we find on this computer?" she asked.

"Star Trek fan fiction," he said. "I get bored and the only software on here is what I use to write my reports, so I ship Kirk and Crusher."

"When you're not here," Lindell said slowly. "Who is monitoring him?"

"I don't live far from here so I have a beeper that will alert me if any of his vitals change."

Willard, Lindell, and Kara stared at him.

"I am paid very well to not ask questions!" he said raising his hands again.

"By who?" Lindell asked.

"It's a different person in a blue Mercedes every other week."

"How did you get up here?" Willard asked.

"There's an elevator that leads to a subfloor that leads to a tunnel connected to the visitor center."

"That's not on any of our maps," Kara said.

"Because it was built post Cataclysm is what I know," he said.

"We're taking him with us," Kara said pointing to the man in the glass tube.

"What?" Lindell and Willard said together.

"My mom killed people to protect this man. We're taking him and we're going to get answers."

"You can't be serious," the man said.

Kara grabbed the computer monitor and threw it to the floor.

"Want to bet?"

"Fine! Take him! Just don't hurt me!"

"What will your bosses think?" Lindell asked.

"I don't care," he said. "I'm thirty-eight. I'm done working. I'm going to spend the rest of my life banging my girlfriend."

The man left without saying another word.

Willard stared at Kara.

"Are we really going to steal the naked guy?"

"He doesn't belong to anyone," she said. "And yes, we are."

"He could die if we let him out," Lindell said.

"I don't call this living," she said as she shoved everything off the table.

"We'll go the way Mr. Useless used," Kara said. "The visitors center has a parking lot, if there are cars, I can hot-wire one."

"This all sounds nutty," Willard said. "Let's take the escape rout without the guy and try our chances."

"People died protecting this," she said. "I will do this with or without the help of you guys."

Lindell stepped forward.

"I don't know what this is, but I think it will lead to answers. I'm in. Willard, you can run."

"No one's calling me a coward!" he said angrily. "I suppose if I'm going to die, I'd might as well die trying to do something possibly noble and/or incredibly stupid."

Lindell took the table.

"I'll smash the glass," she said.

The table was surprisingly light.

"Stand back," she said.

Lindell swung the table into the glass. She used it to protect herself from the shards. The fluid soaked her. Putting the table down, she looked at the man now hanging just by the helmet and oxygen mask.

"I'll try pulling him down," Willard said.

He reached up and grabbed the man by his waist. After a couple tugs, the wires disconnected. Willard stumbled slightly as the man fell.

"Alright," he said. "I got the guy. Let's get out of here."

After clearing corners, they quickly made their way to the elevator. No gunshots or footsteps could be heard. They squeezed into the elevator and took it down the lowest level.

Kara looked around.

"This is an industrial tunnel," she said. "Not something smugglers made."

"That means someone powerful in involved," Lindell speculated.

"Can we discuss all this after we get to the surface?" Willard said. "He's very light, but I am not used to carrying objects like this."

They cautiously walked through the tunnel. Lindell noted there were tiny lights in the ceiling that must be connected to a power source. She had so many questions, but now was not the time for them.

"Watch your step," Kara said as she led them up a set of stairs.

The visitors center looked to be in better condition than the administrative building. There were only a few broken windows.

"Oh God," Kara said.

The red-headed lab tech was dead next to his car. Shot in the chest, Lindell checked for a pulse. There was none.

"Kara, grab his keys," Willard said. "Whoever did this to him might still be around watching."

She nodded and found the keys in his left pants pocket. Kara got behind the wheel and Lindell took the passenger seat. Willard got in the back and laid the man down as much as he could.

"So," he said. "We don't know where we're going, who to trust, and why this guy was being preserved like a vegetable. Not how I planned on ending my day."

"Let's just get out of here," Kara said and put the key in ignition.

They sped off into the unknown.


	6. Chapter 6

If you know my work, who this guy is shouldn't surprise you.

Chapter Six:

Voices swam around him.

"Hotchner would know what to do," a female voice said.

"For eightieth time, Lindell," a male voice said. "Hotchner isn't here."

He clung to the word "Hotchner." Spitting out fluid and opening his eyes for what felt like the first time in a long time, he tried to gain his bearings. Aside from the heavy helmet, he was wearing nothing, but blankets wrapped around him. His whole body felt moist. Carefully, he lifted his head up ever so slightly.

Looking around, he saw two women and a man sitting on the ground by a fireplace with no fire. The woman with reddish brown hair noticed him wake up. She stood up and approached him.

"Hi," she said sweetly, "I am Agent Leah Lindell."

He saw the man roll his eyes behind her back.

"Hotch-ner," he said spitting up more fluid. "Do you-you work… for Aaron Hotchner?"

Her eyes registered complete shock. He could tell she wasn't sure what to say.

"You've been in what I can only guess was a stasis tube for a long time," she said. "Your body may not be ready for the shock of reality just yet."

"You-you sound like a do-doctor," he said as he spit up more fluid.

"Biology major," she said with a smile.

She looked young to be an agent with a gun harness.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Dr. Spen-cer R-Reid," he said.

He coughed up more fluid.

"Take it easy," she said. "Dr. Reid is a start."

He let his head fall back.

"Okay," he said. "Nice to me-eet you Ag-ent Lin-dell."

"Nice to meet you too, Dr. Reid."

As he fell off into oblivion, he could hear her say in an urgent whisper:

"How crazy am I now for wanting to contact Hotchner?"

…

The next time he woke up it was dark. He could see Lindell though, as she had a candle in a jar that she was writing by. Looking more closely at her, he could see her clothes were frayed on the edges and the t-shirt she was wearing was slightly too big.

"A-Agent Lindell," he said as he spit up more fluid.

"Hey," she said as she approached him.

"What is-is going on?"

"That's a loaded question," she said. "Let's start with, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Why am I the one-one who has to answer quest-ions in-in order to get an-answers?"

"Dr. Reid, I have a theory," she said. "If roles were reversed, I'm not sure my heart could take the shock and I am reasonably healthy. We don't know what diet of nutrients you have been on to keep you alive."

"How f-far in the future are we?" he asked. "Your face re-registered sur-prise when I said the name Aa-ron."

She sighed.

"You worked for him, didn't you?"

"What year is it it, Agent Lindell?"

She sighed again.

"Two thousand, one hundred."

It took him a second for the shock to register. The implications slowly sank in. He began to cough up fluid violently. Everything turned in a blur.

…

The next time he woke up he felt lips on his lips. He opened his eyes and Lindell was giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She took a break and he spit out more fluid.

"Thank God," he could hear the other woman say.

He noticed the man was watching too in the dimness of the candle-light.

"You're only the third man I've ever done that to," she said half-jokingly.

"You've got to tell me about the others some time," the other woman said.

"Is now really the best time to be joking?" the man said. "The reason there is a bounty on our heads just nearly died."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be sorry, Dr. Reid," Lindell said.

"But you were right."

"And you were going to go crazy trying to orient yourself," she countered.

"We've got more important things to discuss," Willard said. "We can't stay here much longer now that they've announced our identities and a description of the vehicle across the area. There is also the fact that we have nothing but the clothes on our backs and a single gun for trade."

"I have an idea," the woman said. "Let's go back to the scene of the crime."

"Like two-bit criminals?" the man said.

"What are your names?" Reid asked.

"Oh," the woman said. "I'm Agent Kara Rook. Call me Kara."

"I'm Ken Willard," he said. "Everyone calls me Willard. You can do the same."

"My team used to simply call me Reid," he said. "You're welcome to do the same."

"I like Kara's idea," Lindell said. "It's waste of resources to guard a camp two miles from the scene."

Willard sighed. "Am I being overruled on this?"

"Yes," Kara and Lindell said together.

"The next time I escape a life and death situation, I'm not joining up with a lesbian couple."

"We're not a couple," they said together.

"Spoken like a couple," he said.

"Let's get moving," Lindell said.

Reid realized how naked he felt wrapped only in blankets. His cheeks began to turn red.

Willard came over and tucked the blankets firmly around his hips.

"We can't seem to dry you off. The fluid is too thick. Maybe if we're lucky there'll be some clothes for us to grab for you and a towel," he said.

Reid nodded in agreement and found himself nodding off again.

…

The next time he woke up, he was in the back of a car alone. He sat up and looked out the window to see a ransacked campsite.

Lindell came back smiling. She opened the door.

"I found my journal," she said. "And my flashlight!"

Willard appeared with a bundle of clothes.

"For you," he said.

"Let me help," Lindell said.

His face turned crimson.

"Think of me as a doctor," she said. "You haven't moved much in over eighty years."

Despite still feeling moist, it felt good to wear something. Everything was baggy on him though. The bottom wasn't as hard as the top. His arms ached as she thrust each one into a hole. The helmet ripped a wider hole in the shirt.

The helmet bothered him. He wasn't sure what wires were attached on the inside and he couldn't feel if they had drilled into his skull. The group seemed more content to let it stay on as they had more pressing concerns.

Lindell gently pushed him back in the car.

"We're about to cover this thing with dirt," she said. "Make it less recognizable."

She closed the door and they began to attack it with dirt. They threw it everywhere and smudged the windows. Dirt was piled high on the car. It looked like a mess.

There was a thumping in the rear of the car. Lindell got behind the wheel and Willard took the passenger seat.

"Kara has volunteered to hide in the trunk until after we pass a checkpoint," Lindell said. "Willard is my boyfriend and you are his brother who recently had a head injury."

"Wouldn't it be easier to hide me in the trunk?" he said as his lower lip quivered.

"You were just in a glass tube for eighty years, we're not sticking you in a trunk," she said.

He felt himself nodding off again.

"You're staying awake longer," Lindell said.

"I need to be more," he said.

"Take your time," she said.

Reid felt like he had taken enough time being nothing as he drifted off.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for reading! If you want to review, and not write a flame, please do!

Chapter Seven

I let him read this journal. Afterwards he asked a few questions and I answered them. I don't know if he is humanity's last hope, but I believe he is an answer. An answer that leads to more questions about the future.

But we have more pressing concerns. There are few sites connected to a satellite phone. The closest one I know of is in Los Angeles and we are low on resources even after our raid of the camp. We have decided to head to Las Vegas as cities have resources we can trade for. He happens to be from there so we might go looking for clues while in the city.

…

Lindell looked up from her notebook to see Willard and Kara approaching her and Reid.

"That isn't going to get us far," she said, noting only two gas tanks appeared full.

"We wouldn't have gotten the other one if Kara hadn't shown her chest," Willard said.

"You didn't have to do that," Lindell said.

"You know I did," she said.

Lindell didn't say anything. They were in survival mode now. Nothing was off limits.

"How is he?" Kara asked.

"He finished reading my notebook fairly quickly," she said.

Reid was drowsing the car.

"Good," Willard said. "He won't bother us with questions about why toilets don't function anymore."

"Ken," Lindell said seriously. "If you want to leave, leave."

"And go where?" he said. "When I agreed to carrying that guy, I knew I was in it just as deep as you two. You don't think I want answers about why we found that guy there? I may not show it, but I am curious too. Especially since Hubert turned on us."

"We've got to be smart about this though," he continued. "We only have about a dozen batteries for trading purposes. There are bandits everywhere between here and the next town."

"Is this your way of telling us we're screwed?" Kara asked.

"No, I'm saying we need to be careful. No one goes out alone. When we go for supplies, walk at least a mile from the location."

"You guys," Reid said suddenly. "Where exactly are we?"

"Three-hundred seventy-five miles from Las Vegas," Lindell said.

"What's the name of the last township we passed?"

"Parkdale," Kara said.

"I think I know where you can stock up on resources."

"Okay," Willard said slowly. "What place could you possibly be thinking of that no one in the last eighty years might have not uncovered?"

"A doomsday cult's estate," he said. "Their psychopath of a leader lived thirty miles from here and would hunt for vagrants not far from this truck stop. I can draw you map."

Lindell looked to Willard.

"You said it yourself," she said. "We're low on resources. Cults are known for burying caches in in unusual spots, even the Feds, might have missed. I think it's worth a shot."

"If you draw the map, we'll do it," Willard said. "Kara, it's your turn to stay behind."

"No problem," she said.

"If you draw quickly, I think we have enough time to make the trek today. We'll drive to the midpoint."

"Sure," he said.

Lindell passed him her notebook and he quickly drew a grid as Kara and Willard fueled up the car. The map was done in five minutes.

"Let's get going," Willard said.

…

"This is when I wish sunscreen was still a thing," Willard said.

"I know," she said. "Remind me to look for some aloe along the road."

"I hope you aren't getting attached to him," he said.

"Who? The guy who is still wet with preservative chemicals from being kept in a jar for eighty years."

"Exactly," he said. "I know you still believe he will lead you to the cure or is the cure somehow, but he is just one guy who put a huge target on us."

"I'm not dropping him if the situation gets hot, Willard."

"You're really willing to sacrifice your life for him?"

"That's what I told Hotchner and I intend to stick to my promise."

"You don't even know if he's related to the cure. He could still be a weapon like Captain America."

"He has three PHDs and a high IQ. Captain America was a super soldier."

"Your nerdiness knows no bounds," he said.

"Thank you," she said.

"Back to my point. Don't put all your hopes and dreams on this guy."

"I'm not," she said. "I just want answers. I keep thinking we're not thinking big enough. Preservative chemicals for human beings wasn't possible in the early two thousands. What if something bigger is at stake?"

"Could you possibly be thinking of aliens?"

"I'm thinking nothing is off the table at this point."

"Hotchner really picked a believer when she picked you."

"Thank you."

They followed Reid's direction off a beaten path that lead to another path that barely scratched the surface. At one point they had to use a compass to guide them down into a valley of thorn bushes and brambles. It eventually led them up and over hill and down by a dry creek.

"This is nutty," Willard said.

"What's nutty?" a voice echoed.

They both jumped. There was no way to find where the voice came from.

"What's nutty?" the voice asked impatiently.

"Okay," Lindell said. "That someone lives out this far."

"How'd you find this place? It's on no map. How'd you find me?"

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you," Lindell said.

"Try me," the voice said.

Willard looked to her.

"Do we tell the truth or make something up?"

"I can still hear you!"

This voice sounded like it belonged to a young girl.

"A guy who was an FBI agent eighty years ago gave us a map," Lindell said.

"You mean when my great granny's father who used to hunt people along the I-15?"

"Yes," Lindell said. "How are you talking to us?"

"Microphones in the rocks silly," she said. "Follow the map your agent left you and meet me for tea."

"Great," Lindell said.

"Have your—"

Lindell covered his mouth.

"Appetite ready," he recovered.

They followed the map to a dry pond. The hatch popped open.

A teenage girl with long dirty brown hair appeared.

"Hi, I'm Celia," she said sweetly. "The tea is ready."

Willard gave Lindell an uneasy look. Lindell touched her shirt where she concealed her gun.

They climbed down what turned out to be a massive tunnel. It was set up like a living room though complete with a teapot.

She gestured for them to sit.

"Tell me a story," she said.

"Okay," Lindell said. "I'm going to tell you about a quest."

"For the cure?" she said with a dramatic sigh. "Boring."

"How about the fact that it ended with us finding a naked guy in a glass tube?" he said.

Her face lit up.

"How big is his thing?"

Lindell thought she was going to puke.

"It was significantly magnified by the preservative fluids."

She wanted to smack him.

"Cool," she said. "Drink your tea."

They drank the tea that tasted a like tea, which was a relief.

"Do you get company down here often?" Lindell asked.

"Nope," she said. "It's just me. My two older sisters got bored and decided to explore while I'd rather watch movies down here. Jurassic Park is my favorite."

"Wait," Lindell said. "You've watched movies down here?"

"Only the ones that are on real film," she said.

"Celia," Willard said slowly. "What other stuff do you have down here?"

She shrugged. "Guns, lots of guns. A few books and some really old whiskey from like over a hundred years, which tastes disgusting."

"What about gas?" he asked as Lindell could almost see drool coming down his face.

"You can have whatever you want on one condition," she said.

"Yes?" they said together.

"Take me with you."


	8. Chapter 8

This is really fun! I haven't challenged myself to write like this in ages. I hope a few people are enjoying it here.

Chapter Eight:

Reid woke to the sound of crying. Carefully easing himself forward, he saw Kara crying in the front passenger seat. Thinking it was a private moment, he tried to lay back down. The seat squeaked though and startled Kara.

"I'm sorry," Kara said turning around to face him

"No, I am," Reid said. "I wanted to give you privacy."

"I was just having a personal pity party," she said tearing up. "My mom is a killer and my friends are either traitors or dead. Lindell is great but I just feel so alone."

"I know how you feel," he said.

"You don't," she said. "You have it worse. You've lost everything."

"I try not to think about it," he said. "I need to live in the moment, or I'll go mad with grief over what I've lost."

"You are so brilliant," she said wiping away a tear. "I wonder if they kept you preserved for your brain."

"That's one theory I've considered," he said. "But there were people significantly smarter than me alive. I wonder what happened to them."

"I do too," she said.

"I can't imagine discovering my mother is a monster Kara," he said. "You're entitled to your tears."

"You're sweet too," she said sniffling. "I can't imagine why they'd do this to you if they didn't want your brain."

"We've just got to get to where someone might have answers," Reid said.

"Do you really think Lindell and Willard will come back with anything?"

"I don't know," he said. "John Leer was extremely intelligent and had big ideas for his cult."

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"He was killed in a shootout with my team at a pitstop not far from here where he was holding hostages."

"How does someone as brainy as you end up working with guns?" she asked. "My mom, when she wasn't a killer called them 'weapons of impulse.'"

"I tried not to use my gun as much as possible," he said. "I was taught early on the best way to deescalate the situation was through reason and not violence."

"You sound like a Gandhi or something."

He smiled.

"I wouldn't put my name up with his."

"But to me you are," she said. "I didn't have many role models for how to be an agent and since my mother has turned homicidal, I need someone."

"That's a big weight for me to carry," he said.

She looked into his eyes. They pierced him.

"I think you can handle it," she said.

"Thank you for your belief in me Kara Rook."

"Just Kara," she said. "I refuse to own the name Rook anymore."

"What happened to your father?"

"His name is Mark and he left before I was born," she said. "I don't really believe in the meaning of surnames, not after my mother's heel turn."

"I understand," he said.

There was a pause in the conversation.

"Does that helmet hurt?" she asked.

"No," he said. "It just feels really heavy."

"I think Lindell still thinks you're going to lead us to a cure."

"What do you think?" Reid asked.

"I think someone wanted to study your brain," she said. "I don't think there's anything more to you other than the fact that you are super-smart."

"I'd love to see the molecular makeup of this virus," he said. "Curing diseases isn't in my field of expertise, but I wouldn't mind learning what exactly causes people to die after they turn forty."

Kara opened her mouth, but a loud roaring sound could be heard over them.

"Bandits," she said and threw one of their few blankets over him.

"Stay still and quiet," she said. "I'll try to fend them off."

"With only a crowbar?" he said from underneath the blanket.

"I can be feisty," she said.

"Maybe wait before attacking," he said. "They might just want to trade."

"No offense Reid, you haven't been in this new world for long," she said. "I need prepare to fight to keep us safe."

The sound grew louder. He could hear Kara open the door. Reid braced for whatever was going to happen next.

"What in the world?" she said out loud.

Feeling it was safe, he pulled off the blanket and saw a giant black Hummer. Lindell and Willard were getting out. A teenage girl got out from behind the steering wheel. She walked over and gaped at Reid like he was a zoo animal.

"He really is still wet with preservative goo!" she said excitedly.

"Reid this is Celia Leer, Celia, this is Spencer Reid," Lindell said.

"Are you really humanity's last hope for survival?" she asked through the glass.

"I don't know," he said.

"What would happen if we ripped that helmet off?" she asked. "Would we see parts of your brain. Do you think you still have hair?"

"I don't know," he said.

"I thought they said you were smart."

"Celia, you've asked him enough questions," Lindell said.

"You're not the boss of me," she said. "Willard said you are kind of small down there if you know what I mean."

He turned beat-red with anger and humiliation.

"Ooh, he looks mad," she said.

"Celia do you know how Lesbians have sex?" Kara asked.

"No," she said. "Do you put your hands in each other?"

"There's more to it," she said. "I'll explain over here."

Lindell opened the door.

"You were right," she said. "After the Leer patriarch fell, the younger brother took over and left a manual for survival. The place thrived in secret for generations until the mother and father died before more people could join and left three daughters, Celia's older sisters."

Reid didn't say anything in response.

"I don't blame you for wanting to kill her."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"Not even Willard?"

Reid refused to say anything.

"He's hiding the trunk for the first few days."

"Good," he said.

Lindell's face lit up.

"I made her bring the portable projector and the film Star Wars!" she said. "I've only read the books. I've dreamed of seeing the actual movie!"

"It's good to see you smile Lindell," he said.

"I found something for you too," she said.

She handed him a mini chess set.

"Maybe she is worth the trouble," he said as he smiled for the first time in what felt like a long time.


	9. Chapter 9

I am just pushing forward. I want to keep writing regardless of review count.

Chapter Nine:

August 12, 2100

We're a day out from Las Vegas. Our newest traveling companion may have provided the resources to enable our survival, but she is getting on everyone's nerves. Particularly Reid's.

Celia knocked on his helmet. She touches him constantly to check to see if he is still moist. Her questions about his bodily functions are invasive as he still hasn't eaten anything and lacks an appetite for anything but sips of water. I wonder when his is going to snap at her and I think Kara and Willard are taking bets behind my back.

I can tell the more awake he is, the more depressed he is. I think he was playing possum to avoid me as I experienced the thrill of my life in seeing Star Wars on a screen. The chess board is his constant companion. He tried teaching Celia, but she just wanted to play checkers with it. Willard tried playing him, but he beat him in five minutes. Reid looks so lost and I wish I could help him more.

Luckily our troubles with bandits have been minimal. With a revolver aimed at the leader's head, we offer a small pop bottle of whiskey in exchange for safe passage. They know better than to mess with a vehicle as large as ours.

…

"Do you think I could still lose my virginity here in exchange for a bottle of whiskey?" Celia asked.

"Probably," Willard said as the approached the outskirts.

"Is there any place you want to see, Reid?" Lindell asked.

He was rapidly reading a Lord of the Rings book.

"A cemetery," he said. "My father was probably put in a mass grave during the Cataclysm like my mom in DC. I want to see where my maternal grandparents are."

"What are their names?" Kara asked.

"Grace," he said.

"Are you sure you can't remember anything about how you ended up in that tube?" Celia asked.

Reid took a deep breath.

"As I have repeatedly explained Celia," he said. "I think the shock of the abduction has given me amnesia."

She flicked his helmet.

"Maybe we should take that thing off."

"Not now," he said.

"When?"

"Where's the cemetery?" Willard asked.

"I'll direct you, once we get off the highway."

"We're about to hit a checkpoint," Willard. "Celia, it's your turn to go in the trunk."

"But's my car!"

"It's going to look weird having a teenager with us when none of us look old enough to be your parent."

"But—"

Willard turned around.

"Hide in the trunk or I tell them what you do in the middle of the night."

"Okay," she said quickly.

He pulled over to the side and Celia buried herself under their supplies.

"Thank you," Reid said.

"You still mad about my comment about— "

"A little," he said.

"Fair enough," Willard said.

"So, what's her secret?" Kara asked.

"I'm keeping that bit of ammunition for as long as possible."

…

The cemetery was completely overgrown with weeds. They were lucky his grandparents had a headstone and not a marker. Reid also had a clear memory of exactly where to go. Even as Reid was slowly redeveloping his muscles, Willard still had to carry him to where the tombstone was.

Shaped like a heart flanked by flower sconces, the Grace tombstone looked to be in better shape than some of the others.

"It's kind of romantic," Celia said. "The place is quiet and beautiful. The bodies have been literally left to rest in peace here."

Reid stared at her hard. All of four of them were clearly thinking the same thing: This was the least annoying thing Celia has said since this journey started.

"Look, someone left something in the flower holder," she said.

"Probably a stem," Willard said.

"Are stems metallic?" she asked pulling out encased in plastic, a recorder like the one Lindell used.

"Let's listen to it in the hummer where the acoustics are better," Lindell suggested.

"In a minute," he said.

Tears leaked down his face.

"I never knew you, but I knew you loved her," he said. "Thank you for giving me a mom I could love and cherish forever."

They waited a couple more minutes. He nodded and Willard picked him up. Lindell looked back one last time. It truly was a beautiful setting.

…

"Uncle Spencer, it's Henry," he said. "My voice has changed a bit since you last heard it. Everyone I know thinks you're dead after you disappeared in that train station in Houston a week before the Cataclysm. I believe you're still out there and I won't stop until I'm proven wrong.

Michael and I are on the outs right now. After I hide this where I think you might find it, I'm heading back to DC to make amends. I am two weeks away from my fortieth birthday, and I hope I can see my nieces and nephews one last time.

Here's what I've found out Uncle Spencer: Three weeks before you disappeared and a month before the Cataclysm, there was a meteor strike. One hit an area in northern California a farmer found touched a sample and died immediately. But when the son touched it, he didn't die. The meteor is only the size of a baseball and was sent to the Nevada research facility known to conspiracy theorists as 'Area Fifty-One.'

It wasn't like other meteors. It began to affect the lights in the facility and transmit a code. Your name was in it along with a molecular equation for how to a keep a human preserved alive indefinitely and used as a power source. It warned that if you were not contained before the date of the Cataclysm you would solve it and avert the disaster.

How do I know all this? I did a lot of things you would not be proud of. Kidnapping. Bribery. Blackmail. The only thing I didn't do was murder. I promise. No murder.

The person who monitored the data and enabled the Cataclysm is James Redden. He died after the cataclysm but enabled his daughter to rise through the leadership ranks. So, there you have it. One man just wanted his daughter to create a political dynasty and the world was destroyed in the process.

This is my confession. My dossier. I'm leaving it here because I believe one day you will come looking for a place of peace and my voice will be waiting. No one wanted to hear what I had to say, and I was shunned. Maybe they'll listen to you. Fix the world Uncle Spencer. We need you now more than ever. I love you."

Reid was in tears at the end. The other adults exchanged looks. Celia looked to them.

"I don't get out much, but isn't Robert Redden the president?"


	10. Chapter 10

I hope you're enjoying this. Warning: Everyone Reid ever cared about is dead. He's not in a good place.

Chapter Ten:

"Everyone, split up," Prentiss said to Simmons, J.J. and Reid. "We know the unsub is picking people from this station. Look around and see what you can find."

Reid wandered around carefully. He was reading a flyer for a rodeo tournament when he felt a gun to his back.

"Shout and the pretty brunet, is shot by my partner," the male voice said.

Reid let the man guide him out of the sight of the cameras and into the parking lot. The gun never left his back as he was guided to a car. He struggled as he was forced into the car. Another man came out and covered his face with a handkerchief. It was wet with chloroform. He passed out as he struggled.

The next time he woke up, his head had been shaven, and he was wearing only a hospital gown while restrained to a bed. Terror gripped his heart.

An older man in a suit appeared.

"We had to wait for the chloroform to wear off before we put you under anesthesia," he said.

"What do you want from me?" he asked.

"Your brain, Dr. Reid," he said. "When you were exposed to that unique strain of anthrax, it altered your physiology so that your brain waves function on a unique level. We will be able to use it as form of power for decades. Your thoughts while in deep sleep, will fuel ideas that will guarantee a brighter future for tomorrow."

"My team will find me," he said.

"Your team just apprehended their unsub," he said. "They will be ordered home."

"You orchestrated that?" Reid asked, horrified.

"Three deaths are a small price to pay to guarantee a future of greatness."

"Who are you?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter who I am," he said. "In less than a month my daughter will be one of the most powerful figures in the world."

"You're doing this to me because you can't show your daughter what you do matters," Reid said.

He smiled.

"You are good, Dr. Reid," he said. "My work never impressed my daughter because she didn't think my research mattered. Then a meteor fell and changed everything. I may have had to use my other talents in data communications to torment my team into silence, but it will all be for the better very soon."

"You're talking in riddles."

"You don't need to understand," he said. "You will be part of history. Your brain power will no longer be wasted solving meaningless crimes. Your friends will die, I will die, but you will live on for at least a hundred years."

Reid struggled against the restraints.

"Please," he said desperately. "Don't do this."

The door opened and a surgical team appeared.

"It's too late, Dr. Reid," he said. "The future is now."

"NO!" he screamed just as the mask covered his face.

…

"NO!" he screamed and ripped off the helmet. Wires stuck out of his head as he reached around the hummer. He found a gun. He found a way out. Shakily, he took the safety off and said goodbye to the awful present and prayed for peace as he pulled the trigger.

He saw a light. It came from Lindell's flashlight.

"I may not be as smart as you Reid," she said calmly. "But I know better than to leave a loaded gun where a morbidly depressed man could grab it."

"What does my future hold?" he demanded. "Everyone I love is dead. I'm going to die in a few months anyway as I probably started aging outside that tube. I DON'T WANT TO LIVE!"

"Aliens transmitted the virus, maybe they have tech that can send you back to your timeline," she said rapidly.

"Where are they?" he asked. "How do we find a rock that could have been moved decades ago anywhere on this PLANET?"

"You can't give up Reid," she said. "I have spent most of my life believing in a cure. Now I believe in you. We will find answers."

"I'm not as young as you," he said. "I have lost people. I have lost hope. Maybe you should do the same."

"Many of the truths that we cling to depend on our point of view," she said.

"Are you really quoting Star Wars to me?" he said dubiously. "Return of the Jedi."

"Listen to me, Spencer Reid!" she said. "The novelizations of the twelve Star Wars films are all I had from my father before he died. My mother had killed herself when I was a baby and my brother was a toddler. My dad taught me to read using those books. They taught me to believe in hope and valor even as my own brother turned into Darth Vader and became a human extinction believer. I learned I didn't have to sit and wait to die in a damaged world. I could be someone whose sacrifice mattered. I learned that faith can lead to great things. I LEARNED TO HOPE!

Reid stared at her.

"You really are a huge Star Wars fan."

"Some people believe in organized religion," she said. "I believe in hundred-year-old space operas."

Reid sighed as Lindell lowered the flashlight.

"I don't know how to make the world better for you," she said. "I just know that world would be worse if you died before we got answers."

"Lindell," he said slowly. "I think my friends would be disappointed if I let you down by choosing the easy way out instead of trying to see this through."

"Thank you," she said. "The others should be back by sunrise. Celia wanted to experience sin city for a night before we figured out whether to head to Area Fifty-One or stay on course to LA."

"Whatever you want," he said.

"I want to cut those wires down in broad daylight," she said.

Reid looked at the helmet. There was a light blinking on the inside. It was blinking in a pattern.

Lindell was watching and handed him her journal and a pen. He wrote down:

 _Intuition, however illogical, Mr. Spock, is recognized as a command prerogative._

It was followed by a set of coordinates.

"This is for the W. M. Keck Observatory in Hawaii," he said.

Lindell swore.

"The guy who was monitoring your vitals wrote Star Trek fan fiction! He must have a fan. There is someone out there just as crazy as me who wants to be found."

"How are we going to get there?" Reid asked.

Lindell settled back into her seat.

"Let's wait for the others to come back and solve the impossible later."

Careful to avoid the wires, Reid laid down and felt more curious about the future than he did when he pulled the trigger. It wasn't hope, but it wasn't despair either.


End file.
